


Nameday

by Sphinxriddle



Series: Fragments of Voss [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Birthday Smut, Established Relationship, F/M, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22230397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sphinxriddle/pseuds/Sphinxriddle
Summary: It's someone's nameday, and material gifts seem to have been forgotten
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Series: Fragments of Voss [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1513865
Kudos: 27





	Nameday

Danica Voss grasped the hand of her fellow dragoon feverishly, a devious smile on her face that bred worry and interest in equal measures as she dragged him deeper and deeper into the labyrinth that was the Forgotten Knights inn rooms. Estinien, for his part, followed with reluctance in his step. “A Surprise” she had told him, “Just for you”. Already he was on edge. 

The sudden lack of her warmth in his hands snapped him from his misgivings. Warmed, and then suddenly, cold and empty. To see her, just steps inside the door of a single room. Empty save for a bed, a couch, and a fire, the base requirements for an Inn room. A gentle look rested on her face as she beckoned him in. 

“What exactly do you have planned, and why? If I may ask yet again, my lady” for the Third time in fact. He crossed his arms and the threshold of the room. She laughed, shaking her head almost exacerbated with him, and his obliviousness.

“My lady? Getting fancy now are we?” She started back, tilting her head, a cheshire grin never leaving her lips. “Well, _ser Estinien,_ I heard from a particular very blue bird that it was someone's nameday.” He groaned, Aymeric would pay for this.

“Sadly, said bird didn’t tell me till last minute so a material gift is still in the works but-” her voice danced in the air, singsongy, teasing. “I’d figured we could have some fun together in the meantime.” She put her hands triumphantly on her hips, a hero's smile on her lips.

“And why must it be here, and not say at the bar?” He pressed, crossing his own arms with much less mirth and much more confusion. 

“Well, I _figured_ you’d want some alone time” 

“But yet I’m with you.”

“By Rhalgr Estinien do I have to spell it out?”

“Yes! All I see at the moment is one very excitable woman interrupting my evening with talks of surprises in a broom closet!”

“This is far from a closet, but if you’d like to fuck me in one I’m sure theres one around!”

Before his eyes could comprehend her movement, Estinien felt the solid thunk of the door at his back and a rush of air leave him. Blinking, repeatedly, he gazed down into the mismatched eyes suddenly so much closer, whose keepers hands rested now on his chest. 

He felt a low rumbling laugh echo from his chest, matching hers from moments before, as he wrapped his arms around her lower back. Dragging her closer to him, pressing her as tight as he was to the wall. Wrapping himself around her, all encompassing, leaning down to whisper into her slightly pointed ear.

“If you wished for that, Dee, you needn’t have gone through these theatrics.” She pouted. He felt his icy heart melt a fraction, as she looked away, sad. Gently, he traced a hand up her back, to her neck, then to her chin, tilting her head back towards him with the lightest of pressure. “I am you’re spear after all.”

She couldn’t help but snort and giggle, her momentary melancholy gone with but a simple joke, a smile returned to her face. 

“...I just wanted to surprise you, can’t do that if I just outright tell you now?” She whispered, gentle, as the giggles passed. Kissing his cheek, lingering as she did so, as soon as the words left her lips.

“I’m sure that you very much could still surprise me even if you had.” He responded in turn, grasping at her face as she pulled away, crashing his own lips not to her cheek but to her smirking mouth. Delighted in yet another round of muffled laughter. 

“Oh, I’m sure I still will.” She stepped back a moment, peeked over his shoulder at the door, and then back at him. “Because it’s your turn, Mr. Nameday.”

Estinien blinked, repeatedly. His mouth hung agape. Danica turned from him, sat atop a nearby coffee table, and chucked her boots across the room. Letting her words hang with a smile.

“My Turn?” He wasn’t sure if he was following. He trotted next to her, taking a seat on the couch, you know the surface meant for sitting, not too far behind her. She smiled wide, tilting her head back to look at him with a mock innocence. 

“Oh you know, silly. Your turn to decide how we want to do this.” He could feel his face warm, and his pants tighten at the concept. Her smile grew devious, once more, ah so this had been her plan. The gift was not some rough meeting in the depths of an inn, but a change in how they normally did their rare rutting. When time and fate actually allowed the two of them to be in the same area for more than a few minutes.

“So!” She clapped her hands together, and snapping him from his idle thoughts of their previous exciting evenings. She must have moved when he was consumed by his thoughts, for now he found his fellow dragoon perched like a very comfortable cat, relaxed, in his lap. “What do you wish us to do Ser Estinien?” 

What did we want them to do? Or perhaps what did he want her to do to him? Or vice versa. He raised a finger to his lips in thought, while Danica raised her own to his jaw, tracing gentle kisses down his neck. He could feel his heartbeat quicken. He had so many options, so many idle thoughts from lonely nights he could invoke. 

“Knees.” He blurted out, suddenly. Surprising the fellow dragoon paying such gentle attention to his neck. He could feel her smile against his neck as she slinked down to the cold wooden floor between his legs. Tracing her nails down his chest, resting ever so slightly upon the laces of his breeches. 

He would be lying if he said her display wasn’t intoxicating. He hardened further, as she played, teasingly with the strings. She smiled, eyes intent on her slow, methodical work. One hand tugging at them, the other tracing lazy circles on his hip. Too slow. Too careful. He squirmed, impatient. 

She chuckled low, forgoing her gentle work in favor of a hard yank of his pants. Throwing them over her shoulder to the inn room floor, only to be quickly followed by his small clothes. Leaving him open, and obviously excited, in the cool night air. He shivered, face red, and tousled her hair as she looked up at him. 

She hummed, pleased with herself, as she took him in her hand. But beyond that, she did not move, as if waiting for direction. When she received none, for he was far too enthralled by the pressure upon his lance, she smirked and gave him a few solid pumps. He threw his head back upon the couch, letting an unshackled sigh of contentment echo across the room. 

Yet her hand would not be enough, no, he wanted more than contentment he wanted to hear her own echoing primordial screams of ecstasy and feel her every touch. To move and breath and be one. But that would require moving and at the moment the short term goal of just being between her lips would be enough.

He dropped his fingers from her hair, where apparently they’d been nestled to her jaw and then to her lips. Prying open her mouth with little effort, letting his thumb rest upon her tongue. Looking up at him, she tilted her head not confused so much as demanding he make his desire clear. 

Even if she had an inkling of what he wanted, she wanted to be sure. She was no mind reader after all, and she wished only to make sure his nameday was actually nice for once. He smirked down at her, obviously enjoying the image before him. 

“You are far too dressed for this, Dee” He spoke, his voice a pleasant rumble that warmed her to her core and then some. She began to stand, with full intent to fix that situation, but was stopped by his strong hand. “But perhaps I wish to dirty them, first.” He chuckled, pulling her closer, leading her mouth towards his waiting member.

“And plus” his voice was but a whisper, his hand a ghosting presence upon her jaw as he removed his thumb from her mouth. “I’m sure your mouth is much warmer than Ishgards air.”

Sure enough, it was. Warm and oh so welcoming. The feel of her mouth upon him, enveloping him, it took all his strength to not buck up into her mouth with each strong pull of her lips. And with his strength spent there, he could spend none to muffle his moans. His haughty grunts and exhales spurned her faster, harder, to see which limits she could reach until -

She felt a weak hand upon her shoulder, pausing her, yanking her back. Letting his hard, twitching, spear drop from her lips. His face was red, sweaty. His eyelids heavy and voice hoarse. He opened his mouth to speak, but found words lacking. Instead with great discomfort he stood, at brought her up with him. His length, still weeping with desire, screamed at him for stopping her but yet. Yet he wanted more. If this was to be as she put it “part one” of a nameday gift he wanted something more than a rather fine blowjob in a shady inner room of a tavern. . 

Roughly, he grasped at her clothing, attempting to free her from its confines with little regard for if it ripped or not. He wanted more, more of her, as much as he possibly could have. For her part, she helped by moving them both backwards, stumbling towards the bed, consumed by the very same carnal fervour that had enveloped Estinien.

When finally he had managed to rip her small clothes off, and free himself from the confines of his loose shirt, the two of them had fallen back upon the bed, but yet the fire did not subside. His hands wandered, grasping and grabbing at every part of her body, squeezing her close as his lips wandered her shoulders and up her neck. She sighed into his touch, only then to whimper and moan at the sudden strong presence of his teeth. 

“Mine,” she could have sworn she heard him whisper into her neck before repeating the surprising, marking gesture. “My love, Mine.” He repeated, lips moving up her neck, teeth digging as they went. 

She couldn’t help but think he was right, especially with him cocooned around her so. Her heart was very much his, and the rest followed suit. 

She inhaled sharply as she felt his fingers at her soaking entrance. Snapped from idle musings misplaced in the fires of their joining. His teeth still firm at her neck, her hands still firm upon his back, drawing up red lines even now. 

First, a singular finger entered. Not enough, her mind cried out, Not enough. She squirmed upon his digit, desiring so much more. Impatient. But thankfully her impatience was shared. What was first one, became two, and then three with little room to prepare for another. She screamed in delight, her voice echoing through the halls, much to the probable chagrin of their neighbors. 

Perhaps, if her mind was less clouded by the knowledge that she wanted to be pierced not by his fingers but by that second lance of his she’d have actually worried about volume. 

Instead, all she knew was the sudden absence of even those three digits. Then, just the teasing warmth of him pressed close, rubbing against her core. She squirmed, urging him forward. Part of him, the mischievous streak, urged him to pause. To let her squirm, as was his right if he was so in charge this time. But that fragment of him was drowned out by the primal desire to take her, and hard. 

And so he did, hilting himself inside of her in one smooth motion. She arched her back up, moaning loud into the night air, an echo of his own plaintive whine. 

“Mine.” Yet again, echoing into the night air. For once she found the strength to answer.

“Yours” 

She was unsure if the words reached him, he seemed almost feral, wild, with the pace he set. Punishing, yet intoxicating. Blinding, she could do naught but grasp at his back wildly, and _feel._ Slamming into her, again and again, lost to whatever mindless part of him urged him forward, consumed by his desire to hear his name upon her lips muttered and screamed with such reverence, such hunger he did not deserve. 

When her fingers caught upon a knot in his hair, and tugged hard, he lost even that sense of desire. Grunting hard, picking up his pace yet still. The lewd sound of their flesh colliding the background noise to their panting. Keeping time with every single moan. 

When her sense were stolen, pulled under a wave of completion so strong that she could not even scream his name out, he yet continued. When her she could see faint stars dancing around him, when she was sure she would not be walking the next day with how jellylike her legs felt, he continued. Moaning deep to her neck, letting his teeth graze the marks he had left earlier. When her fingers dug into his shoulder yet again, feeling the threat of yet another wave pulling her under, it was then that he spoke his final order.

“Inside” He managed to grunt out, breathy and slick with his own sweat. She gave a frantic, begging nod. Only then, with a violent shudder and a final deep drive, did he join her over the edge ecstasy. Moaning her name, the only word left in his language, as he emptied inside of her.

He tried, and failed, to not collapse atop her into a warm tangle of arms. Bumping heads and noses as he tried to roll off of her. She laughed, after a moment regaining her composure, and clung to him like a testy vine. He didn’t mind, wrapping his arms tight around her in turn, nuzzling his nose, tired and lazy, into her hair. 

“I promise I got you an actual gift too.” she spoke, her voice heavy with sleep. He responded with a tender kiss, before leaning back upon the rough blankets of the bed. She smiled, full intent on pulling the blankets over them, and continuing her light conversation. Avoiding the tangles of sleep, but found that plan side tracked by a final gentle declaration by the former Azure Dragoon.

“My love.”

To which she found only two words, and a single sleepy action a feasible answer.

“Your love, always.” 

And with that, she crawled back to his arms. Rested her head upon his chest, and allowed him to be her blanket for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to write something like basic and relaxing to try to rewarm up ye olde writing muscles after the holidays
> 
> Ended up with this mess of a smut, ft. an edgy dragoon and a sunshine dragoon
> 
> hey! at least its finished!


End file.
